


Touch Me

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Popstar Liam Payne dislocates his shoulder in a car crash. Zayn Malik is hired as his physio to get him fit for his world tour. They hate each other to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not longer in the 1d fandom but I have a lot of fics on my laptop that I've spent writing and I feel like it's a waste of my time to delete them. However, I have no intention of finishing them, sorry.

He wasn’t drunk—even if all the papers say he was. He’d been to one of Harry’s annual parties and he hadn’t touched a drop because Louis had been their DD but he’d spotted Harry getting handsy with that radio guy Nick, and he’d downed three shots before Liam could order his first pint. He wishes he had drunk, really, because Louis didn’t end up coming home with him anyway. He disappeared off in to one Harry’s spare bedroom with Liam’s bass player Tony and didn’t return. Maybe if he had drank, he wouldn’t have left early, if he had drank then he wouldn’t have missed that light and he wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right about now.

There was a woman in the other car, he knows that much. He’d watched her limp body being dragged from crushed Toyota Yaris as the paramedics tried to get to him through the passenger side of his Porsche. He keeps trying to ask the people surrounding him if she’s okay but no one will give him answers.

“I’m going to need you to keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” Someone says, it’s a gentle voice and it reminds him of his mum. When he opens his eyes, there’s an older woman standing over him with soft eyes and a smile to match. “The doctor’s going to have to pop your shoulder back in, love. I need you to stay as still as possible for me.”

It’s as if her words remind him of the pain in his arm, it comes in at an alarming rate and he wants to yell out but she’s got her eyes on him—those eyes that remind of his mum back in Wolverhampton, who is probably worried sick, if his crash has hit the media yet—and he swallows his screams of pain, holding them in with a bite of his lip.

It takes three men to get his shoulder back to his right position—by the time they’ve finished, he’s got tears pooled in the corner of his eyes from the pain. A nurse—one a lot younger than the one who reminds him of his mother—inserts a needle in to his arm and within minutes, he can feel the sleep taking over.

\---

When he wakes up again it’s to a teary eyed Louis looming over him. “You bastard. You idiot bastard—I can’t think of anymore insults.”

“Hi Lou.” Liam mumbles, the meds still doing their job.

“What the hell, Liam?! There I am enjoying a lovely blow job from a guy with great set of lips—they’re not Harry lips but they’re almost as good—and next thing I know I’ve got Anna on the phone, telling me to come to the hospital because your dumbass had got in to a car accident.” Louis scolds.

Liam’s mind is still to fuzzy with meds to deal with Louis. “I’m sorry?”

 “I’d hit you but I don’t know what part of you hurts the most.” Louis huffs irritably.

“My shoulder, mostly.” Liam mutters, his eyes re-closing.

“You’re such an ass.” Louis tells him and Liam feels small fingers brush his fringe from his face. “I’m going to ring your mum, she’s probably worried sick.”

\--

The second time Liam wakes up, the meds have worn off and his shoulder is throbbing. Louis is curled up asleep on the chair in the corner of his room—Harry’s on the chair next to Liam’s bed—his feet resting on Liam’s bed as his eyes stare at the TV next to where Louis is napping.

“Haz.” Liam grits his teeth as he sits up. “Can you call someone?”

The way Harry almost falls out his chair would be comical if Liam’s entire body wasn’t in agony. Harry leaves the room and Liam grits his teeth, the fingers of his non pained hand, clutching at the bed sheets.

A nurse rushes in a few moments later—Liam notices her as the one who had injected after they popped his shoulder back in—and she pokes at the bag above Liam’s bed. She presses a button and it takes only a few seconds for the pain to subside and Liam smiles at her thankfully.

“If you press this it will reduce the pain.” She tells him—pushing the button she had pressed in to his hand. “The button on the other side of the bed is your call button, if you need anything.” 

She smiles sweetly and Liam attempts to smile in return but the drugs are pumping through the body—replacing the pain—and he can feel himself slowly drifting back in to this drowsy state.

\---

When he wakes up for a third time—he feels less drowsy and in a little less pain. There’s no one else in his room but the TV above the bed is playing a documentary of some kind and he knows that means Harry hadn’t long left. He watches the show for a few minutes but soon gets bored and presses the button the nurse had shown him.

A nurse comes in within seconds—it’s the same one he’d saw when he’d first arrived—and she’s followed in by Louis and Liam’s mother. Liam sighs, ignoring his mother’s watery eyes and instead looking towards the nurse.

“The woman?” He asks and when she looks confused he explains. “The woman—that was in the crash. She was, is she okay?”

The nurse frowns for a moment and then shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if she’s even in this ward but I can find out for you, if you want?”

“Please.” Liam nods.

A small smile graces the middle aged woman’s face and she squeezes Liam’s mother’s arm as she heads back out of the room. Liam closes his eyes when his mum comes over, not wanting to look at her tear stricken face.

“You’re a stupid, stupid boy.” She tells him. “What were you even doing? How could you have missed the red light, Liam? Does your father need to teach you road safety again?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Liam grits.

“Were you drinking or on drugs? Is that why you missed the light?” She asks.

Liam shakes his head and refuses to open his eyes. “I was completely sober, mum. And I don’t do drugs.”

“Good, good. I hope you never do.” She settles.

Liam finally opens her eyes and she’s smiling at him weekly, her hand reaching out hesitantly to brush across his face.  He leans in to the touch for a second but Louis makes an ‘awh’ noise from across the room—causing him to pull away. His mum frowns but she retracts her hand, settling it on her lap.

“Your father wants you to come home, at least, until you have to go on tour.” She says quietly.

Liam sighs and tries to sit up straighter in bed—the damn pain in his shoulder making it difficult. “I don’t need to come home. I’m completely capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know your capable, Liam.” She sighs.

“It was an accident, mum.” He tells her. “One accident doesn’t mean I need to come running home to you and dad. I’m not some dumb kid anymore.”

“You might not be some dumb kid but that doesn’t mean you won’t always be my baby.” She replies, her voice rough with tears.

Liam sighs. “Don’t, with the tears. That’s not fair.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” She sniffles. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine, mum.” He promises. “I’ll come home and visit in a couple of weeks, okay? I might even help dad put the cabinets up in the kitchen.”

His mum is silent for a moment but when she finally looks up, she’s smiling. “If you’re up for it.”

“I promise, let dad know, yeah?”

She nods and stands from the chair, he allows her to fuss him for a moment, only pulling away when Louis starts making noises again. She still has a smile on her face when she pulls away and the knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ll call you.” He assures her. “Do you want me to get a driver to take you home?”

She shakes her head. “I’m perfectly capable of getting the bus.”

“Mum.” He frowns.

“Don’t you mum me, young man.” She quips.

Liam grins at her.

“I’ll walk you out.” Louis says when she starts to head towards the door. Liam watches them both go and closes his eyes once more, a slight breathe of relief leaving his lungs.

The nurse comes in a few minutes later—the one he had asked about the other woman in the crash—she’s frowning and Liam doesn’t take that as good news.

“Oh shit.” He says before she can open her mouth.

She shakes her head and reaches out a gentle hand to squeeze at his arm. “She’s okay, well, she’s in a coma. But she’s not in any real danger.”

“She’s in a coma?” He asks.

“It’s medically induced.” She tells him. “She hit her head pretty seriously during the crash and they’ve had to run some tests to make sure there wasn’t any internal damage. They haven’t found anything as of yet.”

“Does that mean they still could?”

“They could.” She nods slowly. “It’s very unlikely but we’ve told her family she’s stable, for now, just in case.”

Liam bites his lip and then lets it go. “What ward is she on?”

“Intensive care for the moment but they’re going to move her to when a bed opens up.” The nurse explains.

“Is that private or will she be sharing with other people?” 

“The Chelsea wing is the only private area of the hospital, that’s the one you’re on.” She informs him with narrowed eyes. “The one Miss Teasdale will be on will be the David Evans ward. It’s not private—she will be on a ward with four other patients.”

“I want her brought up to the Chelsea ward, please.” Liam says. “I want her to be treated like she’s the most important patient in this hospital.”

The nurse looks hesitant. “I’ m not sure—“

“Money is no object.” Liam tells her. “Anything she needs, if she has to be bumped up some kind of list—make it happen. I’ll cover whatever it costs. I want to be kept up to date on her progress as well—do you think you could do that?”

“What do you want me to tell her family when we move her to this ward?” She asks instead of an answer.

“Whatever you want but don’t mention my name.” Liam tells her.

The nurse nods, hesitating again for a moment, like she wants to say something. She doesn’t, in the end—instead she turns on her foot and exits the room. Harry walks in just as she exists and he raises his eyebrows at Liam, lazy smirk growing on his lips.

“Grow up.” Liam rolls his eyes.

“Meds make you mean.” Harry comments and drops himself on to the chair beside Liam’s bed.

“You being here is what makes me mean.” Liam shrugs—wincing when pain shoots through his shoulder.

Harry looks so smug Liam wants to punch him—though he’s sure he’s got a few broken fingers on his right hand and his left won’t cause the damage he wants. Louis wanders in before Liam can verbally assault Harry—because physically harming him hadn’t been an option—and drops himself on to Harry’s lap with his own smug grin.

“What?” Liam groans.

“Good news.” Louis says. “You can leave tomorrow.”

“And the bad news?”

Louis gets distracted by Harry’s hand resting on his thigh. “Hmm?”

“Louis.” Liam calls sternly.

“Sorry, sorry.” Louis’ head shoots up. “Bad news is that we might have to cancel the tour.”

“Cancel the tour?” Liam asks and sits up to quickly.

Louis curses his name and leans forward in Harry’s grip to check he’s okay. Liam bats his hands away and doesn’t miss the wounded look that crosses Louis’ face. Harry cuddles Louis back in to him before Liam can apologise. He takes a few minutes to redeem himself, pushing down the sparks of pain shooting through different parts of his body.

“We don’t have to cancel the tour.” He says through gritted teeth.

“Clearly.” Louis snorts rudely.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine.” Liam states. “I just need to rest for a few days. I’ll be in rehearsals by Friday, I promise.”

“You dislocated your shoulder, Liam.” Louis tells him. “Your two bones detached from one another and then had to be forced back together. “

Liam screws up his nose—he did not need that mental image.

“You’ve also fractured three fingers on your right hand.” Louis continues uncaring. “Your face is pretty messed up from the airbag and the doctors have said it’s going to take you more than a few days to recover.”

“Louis.” Liam tries.

“I haven’t started cancelling any dates yet.” Louis says with a frown. “I didn’t want to do it without you but no one is going to let you put your body through the pressure of tour, if it’s not a 100%, Li.”

“I’m fine.” Liam repeats stubbornly.

Harry sighs and rests his head down on Louis shoulder. “Poke him in the shoulder, Lou. He might stop being a stubborn dick if we hurt him enough.”

Liam glares at him but Louis huffs a laugh because Louis turns in to a teenager with a crush anytime he’s within touching distance of Harry Styles.

“Don’t cancel the tour.” Liam pleads after a few minutes.

Louis frowns at him. “Li—“

“I’ll take the medicine and do the therapy, or rest, whatever it is I have to do.” Liam promises. “Please, don’t cancel the tour.”

Louis’ silent for a moment and then he looks over his shoulder and him and Harry doing that eye conversation thing that Liam hates because no matter how hard he tries, he can never figure out what they’re telepathically telling each other.

“Okay.” Louis says slowly—turning back to Liam. “If you rest for as long as the doctors need you to and I’ll book a physio for your shoulder and if in the next couple of weeks, you’re improving, we won’t cancel the tour.”

“Thank you.” Liam breathes relieved.

“I’m not promising anything, Li.” Louis tells him.

Liam nods but he doesn’t agree because he’s going on the tour, even it means he’s in a hospital bed while on stage.

\---

Liam’s out of hospital for a week before Louis books his first physio appointment.  The physio comes to his house in primrose hill—because Louis knew he wouldn’t be happy with going to some doctor’s—and somehow he manages to get himself in to trouble with the guy before they’ve even started.

It’s Harry’s fault, he’s the one who borrowed Liam’s ipod and put it back on the highest part of the book shelf. He’d been in mid reach for it when the physio—Malik, he thinks. He wasn’t paying attention when Louis was telling him the guys name—walked in the room.

“You dislocated your shoulder just over a week ago and you think reaching up for something is a good idea?”

Liam gets startled by the voice and drops his hand down to his side, pain shooting across his shoulder instantly. Malik grins from across the room, like Liam had got what was coming to him. Liam wants to glare but he’s taken back by how good looking this Malik guy happens to be.

Liam had expected a guy in his mid thirties—probably married with kids— knowing Louis.  He was not expecting a quite a slim guy, who looks to be the same age as Liam. He was certainly not expecting him to have such a nice face—you could cut steak with those cheekbones.

“If you want to get the best result, you’re going to have to not exert yourself.” Malik explains as he drops his sports bag on to floor in the middle of Liam’s living room.

“I know what my body can do.” Liam tells him.

“Then you don’t need me then?” Malik smirks—that shouldn’t be attractive—and raises an eyebrow. “Considering you know your body so well, you should know that moving your arm like that, could possibly damage your shoulder permanently.”

Liam rolls his eyes and rubs at his shoulder where the pain still resides. “Are we doing this or what?”

Malik puts his lips in a straight line like he’s trying not to snap something back at Liam. “Louis said he brought my table over. Do you know where he put it?”

“No.” Liam replies dryly and sits down on the couch.

Malik sighs and disappears out of the living room. Liam realises in that moment that the guy had distracted him when he came in and he hadn’t actually got his ipod down from the shelf. Not wanting to spend the entire session listening to snarky remarks, he gets up from the couch and goes back over to the shelf to get his ipod. Only Malik walks back in the room—table tucked under his arm—just as Liam’s about to.

“Did you not listen to anything I said before?” He snaps. “Your arm is in a sling for a reason, Liam.”

Liam huffs and lowers his arm slowly this time—learning from how painful it was to retract his arm quickly the last time—and glares over at the other lad.

“Glare at me all you want, I’m just trying to do my job.” Malik shrugs and reaches past Liam to get the ipod. “I’m going to feel out your shoulder today—your doctor informed me that your shoulder is still in the healing process, so we don’t want to put it through too much in the first session.”

He gives Liam a knowing look and Liam snatches the ipod from his hand, when he holds it out. Malik doesn’t seemed fazed, moving back across the room, to set the table up in the large space behind the couch.

“You’re not very professional.” Liam says as he follows him over.

“I’m sorry. Did my concern over you permanently damaging your shoulder not come off as professional?” Malik retorts as he flicks out the legs of the table. “I’ll make sure not go give a damn next time I find you doing something completely idiotic.”

Liam’s slightly taken back by how upfront this guy is. If anyone in any other aspect of his career would have spoken to him like that, he would have had them fire before they could have even began to apologise. He doesn’t know why he’s letting Malik get away with it but a part of him thinks it’s because he doesn’t want to have to wait for Louis to find another physio (or maybe because Malik is incredibly hot).

“Could you sit on the table, please?” Malik asks. 

Liam sits down on the table and Malik helps him remove him sling. He asks Liam to remove his shirt as he goes over to his bag to get something and Liam does as told, wincing slightly when he tries to move his shoulder to get the shirt over his head like he normally would.

“Slowly, Liam.” Malik cries. “Christ, you really don’t listen do you?”

Liam tries to glare but Malik gets a firm hand on Liam’s bicep and holds it in place and that shouldn’t be as distracting as it is. Malik puts whatever he had collected on the table beside Liam and curls fingers around the bottom of his shirt.

“This arm first.” He tells Liam sternly.

Liam moves his normal arm through the hole of his t-shirt and then Malik lifts the shirt over his head and finally down his other arm. There’s no pain the way Malik did it but Liam’s never going to admit that.

“Right.” Malik says and then takes Liam’s left hand between his two. “Tell me when it starts to hurt.”

He lifts Liam’s arm higher and higher and Liam says nothing because it doesn’t hurt enough to comment. Then Malik starts to go a little higher and the pain gets more intense and it must show in Liam’s face.

“Liam.” Malik scolds. “I said _‘tell me when it starts to hurt’_ and by your face it clearly hurts.”

“It’s not that bad.” Liam says through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t ask you to rate the pain—“Malik sighs and brings Liam’s arm down slowly to rest on his thigh.  He starts to press his fingers gently in to the muscle of Liam’s shoulder but not hard enough to hurt.

Liam gets slightly distracted with him being this close—because this guy is off the scale attractive, even if he is incredibly annoying—and he finds himself taking in every aspect of Malik’s face. His cheekbones aren’t the only thing that is sharp because he’s got quite a nice jaw line too with just enough of a beard to make it prominent. He’s got small hoop earrings in each ear—which would usually be a turn off for Liam but he somehow he pulls them off—and he’s biting down on his lip, as he focuses on feeling out Liam’s muscle, which shouldn’t arouse Liam as much as it does. His eyes are quite a nice shade of brown, they make Liam think of winter, when his mum would make honey tea and they’d curl up by the fire. They seem warm and open, which is quite the contrast to what Liam had seen of the guy so far.

“It’s still healing.” Malik says, pulling Liam back to himself. “From what I can feel, it’s still to swollen to do any of the exercises I have planned. But I can could massage it, take away some of the pain and discomfort.”

“Do you charge extra for those sorts of services?” Liam teases.

Malik looks unamused. “We still have forty minutes of the session left so either I massage your shoulder or I could talk to you about what I plan to do over the next couple of weeks?”

“Leave that boring crap for Louis.” Liam says. “I’ll go for the massage.”

Malik nods, picks up the thing he had set on the table beside Liam—an elastic band of some kind—and moves away from Liam back over to his sports bag.

“How do you want me?” Liam asks.

“On your front.” Malik replies.

“Didn’t take your for a top, if I’m honest.” Liam says as he manoeuvres himself to lie down on the table.

Malik comes over to help support his shoulder so he doesn’t hurt it while resting his front down on the table. “I didn’t take you for being a cocky bastard.”

“You do realise I can fire you, don’t you?” Liam seethes as he rests his face in the hole of the table.

“I’m not worried.” Malik replies confidently.

“You should be.” Liam tells him. “Young guy like you, the amount Louis is paying you for this, I bet it doesn’t come around every day.”

“You really are an arrogant twat, aren’t you?” Malik scoffs.

Liam goes to snap something back but the other lad begins to need his fingers in to Liam’s shoulder and it feels really good, making the words catch in his throat, it takes a lot for him to swallow them back down.

“I should have known really.” Malik continues. “Louis told me you weren’t like the sports knobs I usually work with but you are, worse in fact. Just some pompous pop star that thinks he’s god’s gift because he can sell out arenas full of pubescent teenagers.”

“You’re really not worried about being fired?” Liam grits.

Malik presses his thumb down in the junction of Liam’s neck and Liam goes pliant under his hands. “Not in the slightest.”

They both fall silent after that—Liam tries to push aside how irritated he is by Malik and tries to enjoy the massage instead—and the next half hour is spent that way. When Malik finally finishes, he steps back from Liam and collects his sports bag from where he’d left it.

“I’ll see you next week, Liam.” Malik says. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure but we both known I’d be lying.”

Liam growls but doesn’t bother moving from where he’s loose limbed on the table. He hears the front door to the house click shut and lets out a long irritated breath. He doesn’t move from the table for another ten minutes and when he does, his shoulder doesn’t ache as much as it had before.

He slips his sling back on and abandons the table to go in to the kitchen to get his phone. There’s a text from Louis and two from Harry, both asking about the physio—both interested in his appearance more than anything—and he gives them both a straight forward answer, that he really hates the guy and wouldn’t mind if he got fired.

Neither of them text back and Liam goes upstairs to the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to wash away the feeling of Malik’s hands on his skin.

\---

He spends the next week trapped inside his house because Louis said and he quotes _‘the world doesn’t need to be put through the torture of seeing your beautiful face all bruised up’_. So, he spends most of his time vegged out on his couch because Louis also put a lock on the door to his home gym. He can’t even go for a swim in his pool because the lady who cleans his house has been informed to call Louis if she catches him doing any form of exercise.

By Thursday, he’s losing the plot and he’s even contemplating getting a car to drive him to Wolverhampton. At least if he visits his parents, they might let him do something. Liam’s drummer Josh saves him at last minute, dropping in with a pizza and a story about a guy he hooked up with on the weekend.

He’s part way through the story when Liam’s phone rings with an unknown number. Liam gives Josh an apologetic look but the other lad’s just shrugs and reaches for the last slice of pizza.

Liam presses answer and puts his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mr Payne?” The woman on the other end asks.

“Speaking.” He replies.

“Hi, it’s Nurse Callaway.” She tells him. “I was the lady who you instructed to keep you up to date on Miss Teasdale’s progress.”

“Oh, yes. How is she?” Liam asks.

Josh is shooting him confused looks but Liam waves him off.

“She’s good, very good in fact.” She informs him. “She’s awake and the doctor’s have informed her that she can go within the next couple of days.” 

“That’s great news.” Liam beams. “And there’s no further treatment needed?”

“Not that I’m aware of, she has a fractured wrist but it’ll just need rest.” She says and Liam feels his chest ache with happiness.

“Thank you.” Liam tells her honestly.

“The family wanted to get in touch, to thank you, for all you’ve done.” She says cautiously. “I didn’t tell them it was you but they sort of figured it out, they thought your management was doing it so they’d stay quiet about the crash. I had to tell them. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Liam drags the fingers of his free hand through his flat hair. “You can give them this number, if they really want to get in touch with me.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes.” Liam promises. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”

“It’s not a problem.” She replies. “Goodbye, Mr Payne.”

“Goodbye.” Liam says and hangs up the phone.

Josh is still giving him curious looks but Liam questions him about the blonde lad he was talking about that he’d hooked up with, to distract him from asking questions.

 

\---

Liam’s next session with Malik is the next day and it goes about as good as the first. Liam still has his sling—the doctor says it will at least be another week before he can get rid of it completely—and Malik says his shoulder still isn’t healed enough to start exercising it yet. Liam gets stubborn, wanting nothing more than for his body to be healed already. Malik is just as stubborn and has no problem in yelling at Liam if he tries to push himself to hard. 

“If you’re more patient, you’ll find your life might be a little easier.” Malik tells him at the end of the session.

Liam scowls at him. “I don’t pay you to be a hallmark card so cut it out, yeah?”

“Do they train your how to be a dick in pop star school or this just natural?” Malik remarks.

“Are we done?” Liam says instead of answering the question.

“Gladly, we are.” Malik nods and collects up his things. “Always a pleasure, Liam.”

“Would you leave already?” Liam snaps and sits down on his couch.

Liam finds himself flinching slightly when Malik slams the door behind him on the way out. He calls up Harry and asks if there are any parties going on in London tonight, then goes against his doctors orders and forgoes his meds in favour of alcohol.

\---

The girls at the party fawn over him and his injured shoulder. They surround him where he’s sat on Harry’s friend Ryan’s—he’s a footballer or something, he can’t keep up with all the friends Harry has—couch and dote on him the entire night. He doesn’t have to get up once to get a drink, every time the beer is empty in his hand, there’s another one there to replace it.

By the time the night is drawing to a close, he’s happily buzzed and his shoulder is only aching slightly. There’s a skinny brunette guy he takes interest in, he’s tucked in the corner of the room with his back to Liam. The girls surrounding him make a noise of complaint when he stands up but he offers them a small parting smile.

He makes his way over to the guy—devouring the tattoos that cover the guy’s arms as he does, they’re what had caught Liam’s attention in the first place—and the guys friend must catch him coming over because he turns around just as Liam reaches them.

“It’s you.” Liam scowls.

Malik smirks lazily. “Are you coming over to offer to buy me a drink for being a dick earlier?”

“No.” Liam replies dryly.

“Oh, let me guess. You’re coming over to tell me that I don’t belong at these types of parties?” Malik crosses his arms.

Liam gets distracted by how prominent his biceps are, especially with the way the tattoo is stretching across the right one. “Who’s that?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s who that is.” Malik frowns and covers the tattoo with his hand.

Malik’s friend tugs on his arm and mumbles something quietly. Liam glances over at him and the lad offers him a small smile, blue eyes looking slightly worried.

“What did you want, Liam?” Malik asks and he looks a bit defeated now.

Liam shrugs—his intension for coming over has changed completely—and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, only to wince slightly when the pain in his shoulder and the sling, stops him.

“You’re such a dumbass.” Malik rolls his eyes. “Your shoulder is never gonna heal, I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

 “I might have come over to apologise.” Liam starts. “But what’s the point of apologising to someone who’s going to be a judgemental twat anyway.”

Malik’s face looks indifferent and Liam wants to stomp his foot in a tantrum, instead he turns on his feet and pushes his way through the crowd. Trying to find alcohol stronger than the beers he’d been sipping at all night.

\---

Liam calls Louis a week later, an hour before his third session with Malik and pleads with the other lad to find him another physio. Louis—who is as stubborn, if not more stubborn than Liam—refuses and hangs up on Liam before he can complain anymore. The thing is Liam’s session comes and goes, without any sign of Malik.

Liam thinks Louis might not fire Malik just because they don’t get along but he’ll have to fire him if he has no intention on turning up for their sessions. Liam’s about to call his best friend back when his front door opens and a drenched Malik appears, dropping his sports bag in the middle of the room, like he does every session.

He’s got a snapback on his head, covering his face and his leather jacket is ripped at one of his arms. It takes Liam took look closer to notice the other lad is practically shaking where he’s stood.

“What happened?” Liam asks cautiously.

Malik sniffs loudly and rips his leather jacket from his shaking frame. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Malik.” Liam says slowly. “What happened?”

There’s a silence and then Malik lets out a loud dry laugh. “You don’t even know my fucking name and you’re stood there pretending like you give a crap.”

“Malik isn’t your name?” Liam asks confused.

The other lad finally looks up and Liam catches his bruised and cut face that was hidden by the snapback. Liam’s breathe catches in his throat and he opens his mouth to ask what the hell has gone on but the other lad beats him to the punch.

“I’m going to go.” He says and picks up his jacket and sports bag. “You can get Louis to fire me. I really could give less of a fuck.”

He’s out the door before Liam could say anything else. It takes Liam a moment to calculate what the hell just went on for him to be able to grab his phone and dial Louis.

“I’m not firing him.” Louis answers.

“I don’t want you to.” Liam replies. “Or I do? I don’t know. I’m really fucking confused right now.”

“What happened?” Louis asks and then in a teasing tone. “You haven’t killed him, have you? I know he can be pain in the arse but murder, it’s really not you, Li.”

“I didn’t kill him.” Liam sits down on the couch. “I think someone might have tried to though.”

“What do you mean?” Louis questions in a tone Liam’s never hear his voice go, it almost sounds serious.

Liam explains how Zayn hadn’t turned up to their session and then everything that happened when he did. Louis is quiet on the other end of the phone as he speaks and that only worries Liam more.

“I need to call Niall.” Louis tells him. “I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Louis?” Liam calls before he hangs up.

“Yeah?”

“What’s his name?” Liam asks quietly.

“You know his name, babe.” Louis replies.

“Malik isn’t his first name, what’s his first name?” Liam demands.

Louis sighs. “Zayn, his first name’s Zayn.”

The name circles around in Liam’s head and Louis hangs up the phone before he can be questioned more. The thing is that knowing Zayn’s name doesn’t help Liam understand what happened, or why Louis seemed to have a clue in what had happened, or who the hell Niall is.

\---

Liam goes out with Harry that night—they go for drinks at their favourite little pub tucked away from the world—and he tells him about the incident with Zayn. Harry frowns through the entire story, which is very much a Harry thing to do. But he’s got a smile back on his face when Liam mentions his conversation with Louis, and it starts to piss Liam off because his friends never keep secrets from him.

“Who’s Niall?” Liam asks.

 “From what Louis told me, he’s Zayn’s best mate.” Harry shrugs and sips at the ridiculous cocktail he ordered.

That information doesn’t do anything but confuse Liam more. “How does Lou know Zayn?”

“They were mates from back home, were on the same footy team when they were kids.” Harry explains. “Louis told me Zayn was supposed to be some big footy star. He was amazing, apparently. But he got in to an accident, messed his ankle up and he hasn’t been able to play football since. Could you imagine that, Li. If we hurt our voices and could never sing again, I’d probably have to go back to baking. I wonder if the bakery back home is still open. I’m sure Barbara would take me back on—“

“Haz.” Liam cuts him off. “Stay on track, yeah?”

Harry nods and an apologetic look comes across his face. “Lou says he was distraught, poor guy went in to a proper depression because if it. It was that Niall guy that got him out of it—he’s a physio for Man-U football team—apparently he got Zayn a little job with him at the club and his career took off from there. He’s good at what he does, right?”

“Yeah.” Liam nods. “He’s a bit of an arse but he seems to know what he’s doing.”

“He kind of has a right to be an arse, you know, I would be—if I lost it all.” Harry admits.

“As if.” Liam grins a little. “You’d be perfectly happy working in that bakery, as long as Louis came and bought lemon curd tart once a week.”

“Or maybe we could open our own bakery.” Harry smiles at the idea. “I’ll do the cooking and Louis can be the pretty face on the till.”

“Are you planning to make an honest man out of my best friend, Styles?” Liam jokes.

“As if he’d let me, he’s too busy flaunting that beautiful arse around the place to settle down with me.” Harry shrugs.

Liam thinks they’re both as dumb as one another. “Couldn’t let you take him away from me anyway, don’t know how I’d do this job without him.”

“Even though he hides beautiful creatures like Zayn from you?” Harry grins.

“He’s not that good looking.” Liam lies.

“Your cheeks are red and you bit the corner of your lip.” Harry points out. “You can’t lie to save your life, Liam Payne.”

“Okay, it’s distracting how good looking he is.” Liam admits and then mumbled in to the rim of his beer glass. “He’s still an arse.”

“Are you nice to him?” Harry asks. “What did I tell you about this business?”

“You have to be nice until it’s impossible to be.” Liam quotes the line Harry had drilled in to him since day one.

“Well, are you?” Harry pushes.

“He’s impossible to be nice to, he’s yelled at me since day one.” Liam says, aware of how childish he’s sounding but not really caring.

“Try being nice to him.” Harry finishes off his drink, then stands from their table and collects up their empty glasses. “You never know, he might be so shocked by it and be nice in return.”

Liam watches him go over to the bar to get another around and thinks that being nice to people like Zayn never works, it never has and probably never will.

\---

He tries it anyway, when their session rolls around a few days later. He’d been bugging Louis all week, to find out what happened to Zayn, why he’d shown up to Liam’s house the way he had. The other lad told him every time, that it was up to Zayn to tell Liam. That only frustrated Liam more. Louis had promised that Zayn would be at their next session but Liam watches the clock tick towards the three o’clock mark, and starts to wonder if Louis may have been lying.

Until Zayn walks in to the house, drops his bag in the middle of the room as usual. He doesn’t speak to Liam as he disappears out of the room, to where he now knows the table is kept in the utility room.

Liam slips his phone in to his joggers and slowly stands from the couch and he removes his shirt the way Zayn had taught him. The doctor had told him he could get rid of his sling at his last appointment. Which Liam hopes means Zayn will be willing to do actual exercises this week. Though he kind of wouldn’t mind a massage too, his arms being aching from where it’s been without the support of the sling.

Zayn still says nothing when he comes back in to the room and he’s got his hair flat, Liam notices. His fringe, which is usually gelled up in to a quiff, is hanging over his face. It’s not until Zayn’s got the table up and Liam’s sitting himself down on it, that last week hits him and he notices the dark circle around Zayn’s left eye and the scab from a cut high on his right cheekbone.

“Tell me when it hurts.” Zayn says, taking Liam’s left hand in his own and lifting it as he had in the first session.

Liam keeps his eyes on Zayn’s face and doesn’t lie this time, when it starts to hurts, he tells the other lad. Zayn puts Liam’s hand back down gently and moves away to retrieve the elastic band he had gotten out in the first session.

They do a few exercise for the first half an hour, the only time either of them speak is for Zayn to give instruction, or for Liam to tell Zayn when it’s too much. By the time they’ve done four different exercises, his shoulder is aching slightly. Zayn must note this because he instructs Liam to lie down on the table, just like the first session, Liam goes pliant under his fingertips.

Liam starts to think if every one of their sessions went like this and the next six weeks might not be that bad. They might be able to actually be civil. Harry’s stupid quote might actually work.

They’re at the end of the session, when it blows up in his face. Liam’s phone had dropped out of his pocket when he’d gone to climb off the table and he’d only stretched down to pick it up.

“How many times have I told you, you’re going to fuck up your shoulder more if you keep doing dumb shit?!” Zayn snaps.  

Liam retracts his hand back from where he was reaching for his dropped phone. “You pick it up then!”

“You know I don’t give a fuck if you make your tour or not.” Zayn says as he gets the phone. “I mostly want you to stop being an idiot so I don’t have to do extended sessions with you.”

“I’m doing it on purpose because I love your presence so much.” Liam retorts sarcastically and snatches his phone when Zayn holds it out.

Zayn growls and shoves at Liam’s good shoulder. “You’re such an arsehole.”

“Says the one who shoves the guy with a bad shoulder.” Liam says with a smirk. “I thought you were supposed to being professional and caring for my health. I’m pretty sure shoving your clients is against the hand book—“

Zayn gets a firm hand around the back of Liam’s neck and a surprised noise escapes Liam when warm lips come down upon his own. Liam kisses back before he realises what’s happening and he pushes Zayn away.

Both of them stare at each other for a moment. Zayn has a scowl on his face but there’s something in his eyes that has Liam curling his fingers around his shirt to pull him back in. Zayn’s hands come up to cup his cheeks and the kiss is a mess of teeth and lips, both of them trying to be the one in control.

Liam pushes himself away from the table and backs Zayn up until his legs hit the back of the couch. He releases his grip on Zayn’s shirt and curls his fingers around the bottom of it instead, tugging until they have to break the kiss to pull it off. Zayn steps back towards him to reattach their lips and he pushes at Liam’s waist, making an impatient noise when Liam doesn’t catch on quick enough.

Liam catches on eventually, lowering himself towards the floor and bringing the other lad with him. Zayn’s cautious of Liam’s shoulder—even during this—and he rests the palm of his hands on Liam’s ribs as he moves his arse directly over Liam’s crotch. Liam’s cock takes interest instantly, getting half hard in the confines of his joggers.

Zayn must notice because Liam can feel the smirk being pressed against his lips. He stands up then and Liam whines at the loss of contact but Zayn works on pushing down his jogging bottoms and his boxers, his erection suddenly in full view of Liam. It takes Liam a moment to stop staring and a kick from Zayn, for him to remove the rest of his own clothes.

He kicks the articles of clothing from his feet as Zayn straddles his thighs, leaning back down to press their lips together. Liam trails the fingers of his hand down Zayn’s bare spine. Zayn’s teeth dig in to his lower lip as Liam lets the middle finger of his left hand presses in to the other lad.

They’re going to need lube or condoms—something—to be able to continue but Liam’s to comfortable to move upstairs to the bedroom where all that is. He slips his finger back out of Zayn and drops his head back on to the floor, breathing heavily. Zayn’s body shifts on top of him and Liam has to put a hand on his thigh to keep the other lad from falling off his lap. He blinks his eyes open and turns his head to the left to see Zayn sifting through the front pocket of his sports bag.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Liam asks, looking at the lube and condom in Zayn’s hands when he sits back in Liam’s lap.

“Only the ones that really piss me off.” Zayn replies and stops any more questions Liam may have with his lips. He presses the lube in to Liam’s hand.

Liam flicks open the cap with his thumb and  Zayn helps him slick up his fingers—considering the three fingers of his right hand are still taped together—and he pulls the other lad back down for another kiss as index and middle finger press inside. It takes a few seconds and Liam licking in to his mouth to get Zayn to start rocking back on to Liam’s fingers.

He grips tightly to Liam’s bicep and breathes heavily against Liam’s mouth. Liam’s shoulder starts to ache after a few minutes and the pain must show on Liam’s face because Zayn’s curses and pushes Liam’s arm away from him. He sits back on his heels and rips open the condom and jerks Liam off for a few strokes before putting it on.

Liam’s traces Zayn’s thigh with the fingers on his good hand, his head pressed back against the floor. Zayn holds Liam in place then and shuffles forward, until he’s right position to lower himself down over Liam’s cock.

Both their breathes catch once he’s all the way down and Liam finds himself staring up at Zayn, as the other lad lets himself get use to the stretch. Sure, he still pisses Liam off.  And there are still so many unanswered questions. But he looks amazing—positively God like—with his head tilted back in pleasure, his tattooed arms braced on Liam’s thighs as he holds himself in place.

“Okay?” Liam asks, taking all his strength not to buck up. He lifts his good hand to curl around Zayn’s hip but Zayn pushes it away.

He moves his hands from Liam’s thighs to the lower part of his abs and stars moving, slowly at first. Liam wants to help, but every time he puts a supportive hand on Zayn’s waist, it gets hit away and Zayn gives him an annoyed look. Liam gives up after the third attempt and drops his hands to floorboards, blunt nails pressing against the wood as the pleasure starts to course through him.

Zayn gets exhausted eventually and his body collapses down on top of Liam, his face tucked against Liam’s neck, wet mouth pressed to the skin there as he pants. Liam brings his both hands up to rest on Zayn’s arse, squeezing with his left hand as he fucks up in to him.

“Liam.” Zayn grunts, biting down on Liam’s shoulder.

Liam feels Zayn’s cock twitch where it’s pressed between them. “Can you—Do you need me to?”

He gets his question answered when he thrusts up hard in to Zayn and the other lad moans loudly and then comes.

“You just—fuck.” Liam comments, he’d never seen someone come untouched before, certainly not from him.

It only takes a few more strokes for him to come, his hands clutching at Zayn’s arse. Zayn goes loose limbed when it’s all over and Liam drops his one hand back on to the floor as the other traces Zayn’s spine. They both take a moment to collect themselves and then Zayn lifts himself off Liam slowly and falls beside him on the floor. Liam slowly turns his head to look at the other lad.

“I still hate you, you know.” Zayn states not looking at him.

Liam looks back at the ceiling. “Feeling’s mutual.”

Another minute of silence passes and then Liam listens to Zayn climb from the floor and collect his clothes. He throws Liam his and then gets his bag.

“I’ll see you next week.” He says and then leaves.

Liam’s left lying naked on the floor wondering what the hell just happened. He just had sex with Zayn, his physio, the guy he supposedly hates.


End file.
